#;; rain against the window {musings}

[threadxsteel]

tag masterpost

general ;; answered ;; promo ;; self promo ;; starters and prompts ;; wishlist

lywc ;; asleep and in waking {lost history} ;; bones and string i will keep forever {gifts} ;; it echoes in the bones and hollows {that which is sung} ;; listen close to the nightsongs of birds {meme} ;; rain against the window {musings} ;; suede and ink stains {journal} ;; sweet hay and apples {Annwn} ;; to run with the horses and hares {aesthetic} ;; the house of Aylis {the lessons of herbs} ;; the house of Iona {the lessons of shadows} ;; under strange stars utterly and irrevocably lost {to be invested} ;; wildsongs of the valley {about} ;; which is heavier the weight of the blade or the betrayal {Bryn} ;; whispers beneath the earth {ooc}

verses ;; and i will ride with you to the end of the world {inquisition} ;; here my heavy boots find rest {modern} ;; the shadow of the cat {witcher}

companions ;; the lion of the mountains {cullen | sharp teeth and wide grins}

relationships

[morning-star-joy]

half asleep, half awake

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader, ASHWAH Universe

Summary: Every time Joel Miller realizes he loves you. Every time he wants to tell you, and the time he does.

Warnings: Brief smut (unprotected p in v, possessiveness, creampie), brief reference to canon-typical violence, longing, Joel can’t communicate his feelings until he can, lots and lots of love. Multiple specific references to the main series. Joel's POV.

A/N: I’ve gotten asked a few times when Joel realizes he loves Reader in this series, and the inspiration hit me the other day to write out my answer to it. Because it could be one scene, but so many before, and so many after when he wants to say it. I miss these two and I love these two and I hope that this little companion piece to the fic makes somebody as happy as I was to write them again!

Wordcount: 1.8k

gorgeous dividers by @saradika

Important: Please read this post and how to help Palestine.

The first time Joel feels it—really feels it, settled into his bones with an undeniable weight, tugging at his heart with an unimaginable lightness—is the night of his 57th birthday.

Months of staying out of his bedroom, of keeping you off his bed, dissolve into a forgotten time the moment you tug the glass of whiskey from his hand.

Move over, you’d said, making room for yourself amongst the place where he laid his head every night. You finish off the drink, take the rest of the poison he’d been diluting his veins with to drown out the pain of all he’d lost, and settle next to him.

He thinks he wants to see you there every night.

You ask him things like his favorite fucking color, things that don’t matter. Not to him, not to you—but you ask anyway. You meet his eyes readily, open and honest and searching his soul for the same old breaks in your own, and he feels it.

You hold his hand, and it fits there. You would fit into his side too, he muses, if he pulled you in.

He wants to pull you in. He wants you in ways nobody’s ever had you—he knows they haven’t, can feel the trepidation in your soul when he looks at you for too long, or lets his touches linger.

You’ll fuck him like there’s no tomorrow, because maybe there isn’t, but you won’t let him hold you tender. Not that he’s tried, but he knows you. Not everything about you, but enough.

And that night, there’s more. More to you, wounds open and pain spilling out, and it looks like his own. It is his own.

I should probably go, you say when it’s become too much, and he feels the urge to ask you to stay.

Joel asks if you want a drink instead, because he’s an idiot, and you say he’s had too much, because you’re right.

He watches from his window as you walk home under the streetlights for once instead of sticking to the darkness, and though he won’t call it what it is, he knows it’s love.

Joel’s loved you longer than that, though. Somehow he knows it, but he can’t place when.

In front of his fireplace, maybe. You’re shivering from god knows how long you had spent in the rain, in the graveyard, in your own mourning. Broken, and he wants to find each piece of you that you’ve lost and put you back together.

Or at least hold you tight enough that you feel okay again. He just knows that he misses your damn smirk, your fucking laugh, and maybe that was love too.

Or maybe it’s when he wants you to be his, his, his only. When he wants to erase the image of that man’s hand on your back with his own on your skin, fingertips digging into your hips and pulling them back to slap against his.

Maybe it’s the skirt of a temptress bunched up around your waist, each desperate thrust of his cock into your needy cunt, dripping and squeezing as you say, moan, scream his name, his, his.

Maybe it’s when you’re half-naked after, admitting you don’t know what the fuck this is, don’t understand what it’s become, and he doesn’t know either. But it’s something delicate. Maybe it’s love then.

Maybe it’s love on the bathroom floor when he realizes you’re the first friend he’s made in years.

Maybe it’s love when he wants to kill every single bastard raider who took you from him, wants to tear them apart with his bare hands and make them bleed and bleed for how much blood they’d taken from you. Precious blood, blood that kept you alive, kept you snarky and angry and wrapped around him each time he took as much pleasure from you as he gave back.

Or it’s Halloween, the bright lights, loud music, and clothes of a bygone era. None of it real until Maria shoves the truth of the matter into his face. She tells him he’s an idiot and just what it all means, what you mean to everyone, and to him, and he finally accepts it.

That’s the first night he has you in his bed. The first night he sees all of you, feels all of you, skin against skin, and you come again, and again, and again. It’s not enough, he needs to keep feeling it, needs you to fall apart in his hands so he can put you back together. A single thread he weaves through you and tugs with each ripple of pleasure, pulling you apart again with each clench of your cunt around his cock, until you pull it from him too.

You fall asleep in a matter of minutes after. Lips parted, and he wished he could watch them swell after a kiss, but you were still holding back.

So he settles for his palm on your cheek, stroking the scar that he still doesn’t know how you got, and feels so much longing, so much love when you sink into his sheets, wrapped up in his favorite color that you knew because you cared to ask. Settled by just the touch of him.

Joel thinks you tried to say something that night, but he’ll never know what. He does know what he wants to say, but he holds back. He’d wait for you, even if you never wanted this too. He’d be whatever you did want him to be.

Time passes in a blur after that, as you tangle yourselves together in ways he never would’ve once thought possible. He doesn’t move, and you lean into him. He doesn’t move, just lets you come to him, too scared you’ll run away again if he holds you too tight, or at all.

Then that night. A meal shared with the family you’d found. He tries to go home alone after, and you chase after him, hold him tight, and he knows. He knows what he feels, and he knows you feel it too.

He doesn’t have to say it, but he wants to. Night after night he wants to, the more that you settle and the more that you’re his. The more that he is yours.

You kiss him, finally—or he kisses you, he can’t remember which. And it says it all.

Still, the words are trapped in his throat as his home truly becomes yours.

His body had already been your home for a year.

His heart, for longer than he would ever know.

But his house. Four walls that didn’t mean anything, not really, not until you lived within them and your sister’s art was on the mantle, your photograph of your parents was in your room that was his room, all your mugs in the kitchen and his coffee was your coffee—he needs to tell you.

He tries to every morning, in his kitchen with your cups of coffee—or tea, with complaints falling from both his mouth and yours if you were out of your preferred beverage. He doesn’t, but he knows you can taste it in the drink he brews for you, perfected to your liking.

He tries to before every patrol, in case somebody takes you from him again. He doesn’t, but he knows you can see it when his eyes seek yours, when he gives you a nod and a lingering gaze before you’re out of the gates and on your way. He knows you can feel it when you both get home, his arms wrapped around you tight and the tension seeping from his body when you’re pressed to him.

He tries to every night, but it’s lost on his tongue every time it slides into your mouth. He knows you know with every kiss, every thrust of his hips from where he’d found a home nestled between your thighs, spilling himself into you as you welcomed him in and made the most beautiful music every time.

You’re comfortable in bed months after the holidays, after that first kiss. Winter is warming into spring, the air feels like starting again, and he tries to tell you.

You’d been reading when he crawled into bed behind you after a shower. His face buried into your neck, each drop of water onto your skin so cold it makes you shiver. But your nails dig into his forearm when it wraps around your waist, the book tumbling from your fingers as you grasp at the nightstand with each drag of his pulsing cock inside your tight heat.

The lamp on the nightstand rattles with each thrust, sending waves of warm light flashing across the room. He’s mesmerized each time it washes across your face, pinched in the familiar climb for pleasure you trusted him to guide you through. He mouths at the scar on your cheek, caressing with lips and tongue as you gasp his name.

You’re so beautiful. His moon, his heart, his home, his everything.

Joel wants to tell you when you come, your eyes fluttering open and seeking his. Seeking that connection between you, as hungry as you are reverent, and he doesn’t deserve it, that undying loyalty. But you think the same for yourself, so what did either of you know, besides what this was.

Love, and he wants to say it. Wants to say he loves you when each flutter of your pussy around him sends him spiraling into an orgasm, a blissful moment of release he now only ever associated with you.

Half asleep after, you’re content, the warm light of the steadied lamp caressing your skin as he cleans it. You know what he wants to say, he thinks. Your eyes are heavy and lazily watching as he kisses the inside of your thigh, peppers his love up your body to your lips.

Half awake, Joel watches you reach for him, pulling him down into a soft caress of your lips against his, with more tenderness either of you ever thought you were capable of.

He won’t say it. You know he won’t.

But you know he will. Someday.

And that one morning amongst many that belong to just you and him, when you ask about other lives, when he realizes you’d want him in more than just this one—in every one—he says it.

You say it back, and everything is right.

When you ask him when he first felt it, he tells you the truth; that he hadn’t felt it just yet on that snowy street a year ago, but a part of him always knew he would love you.

And now, Joel knew he always would.

[bunny584]

OBSESSED: GOJO

A/N: Satoru is neither patient nor kind. Pity the poor soul that crosses him. So, don’t cross him 🤭 (ok ok I swear the Yuuta one is up next, Satoru was just being demanding, per usual).

C/W: This man is his own content warning LOL. Mature, 18+

“So. Damn. Pretty”

Satoru snaps a photo of you bent over, contemplating the pastries. Another one to add to the infinite album of his only muse.

You’re wearing his favorite pair of yoga pants. And his eyes ride your curves without any brakes in sight.

The pants are suctioned to your rounded hips from your hot Pilates class. Your precious little cunt is so puffy from all the heat and sweat, well outlined like a perfectly packaged gourmet dessert.

You never wear underwear with them. And always try to skirt by him when you come home after your workout. Self conscious about how he always tosses you on the kitchen counter and laps you up until you’re screaming his name like a prayer. Eventually squirting all over the Italian marble.

Satoruuu. You couldn’t have waited until after I showered?

You always blush and whine and avoid his gaze. Hands squeezing down on your thighs, trying to hide how they tremble for him.

His adorable, sweet girl.

He leans back against the window of the coffee shop. What’s a couple more minutes of eye-fucking?

Satoru places his rounded black glasses in his back pocket and pops a dark chocolate Hershey kiss in his mouth. What he really wants is your pussy melting on his tongue but chocolate will do for now.

“He’s so hot.” The shrill, irritating, buzz from the airheads next to him shear through his daydream about you.

“Hey, Blue eyes!”

“Sorry sweetheart. I’m spoken for.”

Satoru flashes one of his empty, razor sharp grins. Which means it’s the end of the conversation for him, but the start of a lifelong infatuation for the other party.

Eyes back on you.

He pierces through you. 3 of the 7 cardinal sins wage war against each other within him.

The barista is looking at you how he looks at you and well…

That simply won’t do.

He approaches you like a lion stalking its prey. Satoru towers over you in less than a second. And you don’t notice.

He finds it so troublesome.

You are oblivious and tiny and smiley and vulnerable and so damn trusting. If the Heavens spoke they’d sing your praises. His beautiful, sacred girl.

Men are vile.

With horrible, depraved, nefarious intentions. They see a girl like you and want to violate. And take. And ruin. And push you to your knees. Pin your head against a wall. Shove his cock through the back of your throat until you’re choking and gurgling his name. Pathetic, pretty pleas for mercy. Hot salty crystalline showers raining from your baby doll eyes — it always makes him rock hard. The way you cry when you’re overstimulated.

Fuck.

Wait. What was he thinking about again?

Right. Protecting you. From scumbags like this fucking barista who won’t stop undressing you with his beady eyes.

He can make those eyes go away. Real quick.

You’re up next to order. Satoru snakes his hand around the back of your neck. You startle back into him, just like a wild doe.

“Sato—“

He kisses the rest of his name off your lips. Tonguing every corner of your sweet mouth. Sucking on your warm muscle. He smirks against your feeble attempts to pull away. Gorgeous face flushed cotton candy pink. So shy. So embarrassed. He can feel himself stiffen in his pants.

“S—sat…”

“I’ve missed you, princess.” He pulls away and you’re gasping for air. Sexy little pants. He could fuck you in the middle of the shop right now.

And he will.

“Hi Satoru,” you purr his name and his dick twitches, “you’re being dramatic. It was one night.”

You toss a glance at the barista apologetically. And Satoru decides he definitely has to end him.

“Can I have a small vanilla latte please?”

God. Your voice alone grabs him by the fucking balls.

You longingly look back at the pastries, and furrow your brows. As if your figure isn’t goddamn perfect. You don’t need those silly pilates classes. Satoru could work you out on his cock every day. Would be more than sufficient enough.

“She’ll also take the biggest slice of berry cake you have.” He follows, shamelessly gripping your ass in his large palm.

You muffle a falsetto whine. But Satoru knows that sound. You act so sheepish and innocent. But there’s a pool of lust between your legs right now and he can’t wait another fucking second to sink into it.

“Good choice.” The idiot smiles and Satoru could rip his trachea out then and there.

“And I’ll have an Americano. 2 extra shots of espresso.” He barks his order before kissing you on the forehead.

“Baby, go get us that back booth in the corner. Yeah?”

You give him a tiny smile that dismantles him. So he grips the back of your head for another bruising kiss before sending you off. He lingers on you walking away from the counter. Brazenly taking another photo of you. Completely ignoring the growing line of patrons behind him.

Satoru turns back to the barista, and he watches the blood drain from his face.

His favorite.

A hunter and the hunted.

“Pretty, right?” Satoru muses casually, reaching for the wallet in his back pocket.

“Uh, y-yeah man. S-she..”

“Probably want to fuck her, don’t you?”

Satoru flashes a toothy grin, pulling out a couple hundred dollar bills. He doesn’t carry anything smaller than that.

“W-what? No. No man. I was just. I was being polite.”

Satoru motions for the barista to lean in to hear his next words. He has no choice but to oblige.

“Well, I am going to fuck her. Senseless. In that back booth over there. And if you so much as look in our direction. Or look at her ever again, I’ll rip your throat out and feed it to stray dogs.”

Satoru palms Barista’s cheek two times before stuffing the hundreds into his shirt pocket.

“Keep the change.” Another grin as bright as the sun before sauntering over to the booth with your treats.

“Mmmm, gimme gimme.” You paw at the caffeine and cake, less guilty that you didn’t order the sweet treat for yourself.

He purposefully places them out of your reach.

“Hey! Why—“ Satoru’s large hand encases your neck and pushes your head against the plush booth.

The way you gaze up at him. Wide-eyed. A pretty little deer in his headlights. Oh he loves that about you. How he can read your book front to back with his eyes closed.

His cock can’t stop beating. Against his zipper. Against his thigh. It needs the nourishment between your legs.

Satoru wires his tongue back in your mouth. He bites down on your perfect lips, knowing it’ll get red and flushed and swollen. Just how he likes it when you’re sucking the cum out of him. He can’t feed you his cock here, not yet. But you can sit on it.

You struggle to keep up with his pace. Little moans, little gasps, little “ohs”.

He reluctantly pulls away. Still close enough to your face that the tip of his nose grazes yours. Satoru stares at you. Unblinking. With a quiet smile on his face. He knows what his intensity does to you and he can’t get enough of it.

You squirm. Eyelashes fluttering. Looking in every which direction except into his eyes.

“Look at me baby.” He strums your chin.

“Y-yes daddy.” You whine. So obedient. So pliant.

He much prefers you like this. Not like last night. Out with your friends. Without him. Not letting him pick you up or bring you home. He fucking hates that.

But this. This is perfect.

Satoru stands to his full height. He shrugs out of his black leather jacket before sitting in the booth next to you. Not once breaking his gaze.

You need to be disciplined.

And there’s nothing Satoru loves more than to discipline you with his dick.

“On my lap, little one.”

You eagerly nod and nestle into his legs. His length digging into your clothed flower. He can already feel the heat emanating from your petals.

He drapes his jacket over your lap. Concealing how your bodies are about to mesh.

“I’m going to fuck you, right here, baby.”

“S-satoru, h-here?” He loves when you sound so desperate and nervous. Satoru answers your question with a nip and lick on your earlobe.

“Pull them down.” He husks in your ear.

But Satoru is an impatient man. Your tiny hands take a millesecond too long so he drags your pants to your thighs himself. At the same time unzipping his pants just enough to pull his blushing, leaking lead pipe length.

He’s too big for you. For your petite, doll-like frame. And whenever he rocks you down to his base there’s a Satoru-shaped bludge at the center of your feminine torso.

It makes him want to lock you in his room, forever.

“Oh, oh my god.”

You try to pant quietly when Satoru slides all 10 of his thick, almost inhuman inches into you. And your warm, drenched walls clamp down around him. Like it’s the first time he’s invaded you.

He groans into your shoulder blades. Tilting and rocking you in long, languid movements. Purposeful. He wants you needy. Subservient. Under his spell.

“I missed you last night, baby.” Satoru starts his mind fucking.

“M-missed you…”

“I can’t protect you when you’re not by my side, sweet girl.” He suspends his hips and starts small, saccharine bounces. Making your head bobble like it’s connected to your body by a string.

“Men want to hurt you baby. Take advantage of you.” He continues his rhythm.

You grip the sides of the table. Your cunt creaming all over his length. Clipped, falsetto gasps and whines tumbling from your open mouth.

Satoru’s lips graze the shell of your ear and you evanesce into him.

“You need me. Don’t you pretty? To keep you safe.” His lips trail down your jaw. Nibbling little marks. His territory.

“Y-yes, daddy. I need you.”

Satisfied, Satoru lowers himself back down on the booth. Still violating your womanhood with his length.

So fucking pretty. You struggling to catch your breath and squirming all over his cock. Staining his pants with your arousal.

Satoru pets your head. That’s better. All better.

Just like how he likes you.

[thedensworld]

Alone at Night | K.Mg

Pairing: Mingyu x Reader

Genre: angst, fluff, established relationship, short!

Summary: Mingyu has no idea until he had to sleepover in your house because of the rain. In fact, it hurts him.

In the dimly lit room, the soft patter of rain against the window was the only sound, punctuated occasionally by a distant rumble of thunder. Mingyu shifted on the couch, glancing at the clock on the wall. 2 a.m. already. He hadn't planned on staying this late, but fate, it seemed, had other ideas.

As he nestled deeper under the cozy comforter you had provided, Mingyu couldn't help but smile, reminiscing about the evening that led to this unexpected slumber party. Your movie date had been nothing short of perfect – a delicious dinner cooked by your own hands followed by a marathon of films, laughter, and the warmth of your presence beside him.

But as the clock struck midnight, Mingyu had made a mental note to leave, not wanting to overstay his welcome or make things awkward. Yet, as if the universe conspired against his plans, the rain began to pour relentlessly, trapping him in your cozy abode for the night.

"Fourth date and already a sleepover," he mused to himself, a mixture of amusement and disbelief coloring his thoughts. Mingyu couldn't deny the flutter of excitement in his chest at the thought of spending more time with you, even if it was under somewhat unconventional circumstances.

Reflecting on how he had met you through a mutual friend, Mingyu couldn't help but marvel at the unexpected turn his life had taken. Your calm demeanor and quiet energy had drawn him in from the start, and what had begun as a simple friendship had blossomed into something deeper – something he couldn't quite put into words.

And when he finally mustered the courage to confess his feelings, Mingyu had braced himself for any outcome, never daring to hope that you might feel the same way. Your stoicism had kept him guessing, but your acceptance had filled him with a warmth he had never known before.

As he drifted off to sleep, cocooned in the comfort of your home and the promise of a new day with you, Mingyu couldn't help but feel grateful for the rain that had brought him here – and for the person who had stolen his heart in the most unexpected of ways.

In the midst of his own thoughts and worries, Mingyu couldn't shake the feeling of concern gnawing at him. He knew you had been through a lot lately – the setbacks at work, the financial burdens from family, the weight of responsibilities pressing down on your shoulders. Yet, you always seemed to carry yourself with such grace and composure, never letting on just how much you were struggling.

But as he lay awake on the couch, the sound of faint sobbing drifting through the stillness of the night shattered Mingyu's facade of calm. His heart clenched with a mixture of anguish and helplessness, realizing that it was you – the person he cared for deeply – who was silently bearing the weight of your own troubles.

With cautious steps, Mingyu approached your slightly ajar door, his ears straining to catch the sound of your stifled sobs. His hand hovered over the door, torn between respecting your privacy and wanting to offer whatever comfort he could.

Inside your room, you sat on the edge of your bed, shoulders trembling as you tried to contain the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. Despite your best efforts to reassure Mingyu and everyone else that you were okay, the facade cracked in the solitude of the night, allowing the pent-up tears to finally spill over.

Mingyu's heart clenched at the sight of you on the bed, your body trembling with silent sobs. The realization that you had been crying alone, even with him just a room away, sent a pang of guilt coursing through him. What pain had you been concealing behind that stoic facade? The thought gnawed at him, filling him with a deep ache of concern for you.

Summoning his resolve, Mingyu softly knocked on your door, his hand lingering on the doorknob before gently pushing it open. The dim light of the night lamp cast a soft glow over the room as Mingyu stepped inside, his gaze drawn to your form on the bed.

"Do you need something, Mingyu?" Your voice, tinged with exhaustion and sadness, cut through the silence. You looked up at him, attempting to mask the vulnerability that lingered in your eyes, but Mingyu saw through the facade.

Without a word, he approached you, his heart heavy with the weight of your pain. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he reached out and switched on the night lamp, illuminating your tear-stained face. His hand moved to your cheek, gentle and tender as he wiped away the evidence of your tears.

In the quiet intimacy of the moment, Mingyu hummed softly, a soothing melody meant to offer comfort and solace. There were no words to express the depth of his concern for you, but in that simple gesture, he hoped you could feel his unwavering support and the love that overflowed in his heart.

"Mingyu..." Your voice quivered as you spoke his name, a mixture of relief and vulnerability laced in those two syllables.

"It's okay... You can cry..." Mingyu's voice was gentle, his words a soothing balm to your wounded soul. With a reassuring nod, he extended his hand, offering you the comfort and understanding you so desperately needed.

As you sat in front of him, the floodgates of emotion burst open, tears streaming down your cheeks unchecked. Mingyu's heart constricted at the sight of your raw pain, but he remained steadfast, his arms opening wide to envelop you in a warm embrace.

"Baby..." Mingyu's voice was tender, filled with a depth of emotion that spoke volumes. He pulled you closer, holding you tightly against his chest as you surrendered to your tears. Each sob wracked your body, but Mingyu held you with unwavering strength, his presence a beacon of solace in the darkness of your despair.

You cried harder, the weight of your burdens feeling momentarily lighter in Mingyu's embrace. His words of reassurance washed over you like a gentle wave, offering a glimmer of hope amidst the storm of your emotions.

"It's okay, you're doing great... I'm here." Mingyu's whispered words echoed in the stillness of the room, a promise of his unwavering support and unconditional love. And in that moment, surrounded by the warmth of his embrace, you knew that you were not alone – that no matter how heavy the burdens you carried, Mingyu would always be there to share the load.

Wrapped in the comforting cocoon of your embrace, Mingyu held you close, his arms a steady anchor amidst the storm of your emotions. He watched as your tears gradually subsided, your breathing slowing to a steady rhythm against his chest. With tender care, he brushed a stray strand of hair away from your face, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

"Is it always like this? Every night?" Mingyu's voice was soft, tinged with concern, as he finally broached the subject that had been weighing on his mind.

You shook your head, the remnants of sadness still lingering in your eyes. "Sometimes it just hits randomly at night. Without a reason."

"This time too?" Mingyu's question was gentle, his gaze searching yours for any sign of reassurance.

You nodded, the weight of your admission hanging heavy in the air between you. But Mingyu didn't falter – instead, he pulled you closer, his touch a silent vow of unwavering support.

His hand found yours, fingers intertwining in a comforting gesture as he spoke, his voice filled with determination. "If this happens again, later... Call me. I'll be by your side, like this."

In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of Mingyu's love and the promise of his steadfast presence, you felt a glimmer of hope ignite within you. No matter how dark the night may seem, you knew that with Mingyu by your side, you would never have to face it alone.

[the-lying-heavens]

"Do You Want to Dance Too?"

[Bucky Barnes x fem!reader]

Summary: After a very rare date with your boyfriend, it starts to rain and you two find yourselves stuck in a cafe with no way to get home without being soaked.

Warnings: none! Just fluff

Word Count: 1104 words

(A/n: First attempt at a fanfic. I thought about this when I was trying to sleep and I really wanted to write it down.)

You curse under your breath as James and you quickly run to the small cafe at the end of the empty street. The rain started just a few moments ago, so it wasn't bad now, but you had a feeling it would only get worse.

You finally make it through the door, only slightly wet.

"Nice end to the day," he mumbles, clearly unhappy.

You sigh and take a seat at your usual table when Ella, a good friend of yours, pops up behind the counter.

"Well, this is a surprise," the barista says. "Thought I was finally going to be able to go through the whole day without you showing up."

"Ha ha," you muse, "Get us some hot chocolate."

She rolls her eyes but goes to make the order nonetheless.

James takes a seat next to you, glaring out the window as if that would stop the rain. The rain didn't take kindly to that as it starts a downpour, confirming your earlier suspicion.

He grumbles, and you take his hand in yours.

"Tonight was nice," you say gently.

"It could've been better."

You shake your head, "You can't control the weather, love."

But you could understand his frustration. You rarely got to spend much time together as it was.

You usually only see each other at night but by then are too exhausted to do anything other than eat and sleep.

James and you had started dating a few months ago, but you had known each other for years before then. You used to be an Avenger, but you quit after Steve left. First, it had been out of grief from your best friends; then it changed to you not wanting that kind of life anymore.

James was still very much in it—he was a soldier first, after all—and, as long as he didn't get himself killed, you were okay with that.

You unconsciously trace a small scar on his palm as Ella brings you the hot cocoas.

"Okay, here's the deal," she starts, "I have to close up in 45 minutes. You guys can stay to try to wait the rain out."

"Do you at least have an umbrella we can borrow?" you ask.

"Nope. I even gave mine to an old lady."

"And you can't let us stay?"

"Nada."

It's your turn to grumble, "Fine."

Ella shrugs, "I need to clean up," she says before making her leave.

James is still glaring out of the window when he suddenly turns his stare on you.

"This is why we should've taken the car," he concludes.

You are taken aback, "So it's my fault for suggesting that we walk for 20 minutes to the restaurant?"

"Guess so."

You scoff, "You are on very thin ice here, Barnes."

He raises an eyebrow, "Are you threatening me?"

"Guess so," you mimic.

"What are you going to do?" he asks, amused.

"Do you want to sleep on the couch?"

He scoffs at your threat but doesn't say anything else.

Smart man.

You sip your hot cocoas in silence.

Then, suddenly, you're laughing. James looks at you with an amused grin.

"I can make you sleep on the couch," you say, still giggling.

You poke his chest, and he starts laughing too.

"I know you can, dear. I know you can."

He grabs your chin with his right hand, tilting your head so you look him directly in the eye.

"What would I do without you?" he wonders out loud.

"It's too awful to think about," you joke.

He laughs again before pressing his lips against yours.

You sigh in the kiss. It's difficult to think you were once distrusting of the super soldier you had grown to love. Now you trusted him with everything you had and more.

It took a long time for you to see the ex-Winter Soldier's true nature. His gentle, shy yet annoyingly protective nature.

Too long.

He breaks off the kiss with a small smile.

"We should finish the hot cocoa before it gets cold," James suggests.

"Hot cocoa is more important than kissing your girlfriend?" you pout.

He shrugs, "It's good hot chocolate."

You don't deny his statement.

It's your turn to look out of the window. As rain bangs on the roof and glass of the small cafe, it seems to play out a rather aggressive tune. You don't like when it rains. It brings back rather painful memories, but you've learned that countering the bad memories with good ones helps make peace with the pain caused in a moment.

That gives you an idea.

"Do you want to sprint for it now?" you ask randomly.

The super soldier nearly spits out his cocoa, "What?"

"It's probably only gonna get worse, and we are going to have to eventually."

"Do you want to dance too?" he says sarcastically.

Your eyes light up at the idea, "Can we?"

James' eyes widen, "I meant it as a joke."

"But why not? It's as cliche as dancing in the apartment," you point out, "Besides, it'll be fun."

He shakes his head, "We are not dancing in the rain."

"But—"

"It's way too cold, and the last time you got sick, you couldn't get out of bed for a week."

You try to hide your wince by pouting, "Fine. No dancing."

He sighs, "But maybe we should go soon. It does look like it's going to get worse."

"So let's go then."

~~~

"Wait up!"

James' voice is nearly lost in the rain. You keep running, knowing full well he could catch up with you within a minute.

Or maybe he couldn't. You are pretty fast.

You laugh into the wind, your mouth filling with water as the painfully large raindrops hit your face.

You sprint in the direction you think is your house and try to calm the leather jacket that James gave you by wrapping it around your torso.

While doing so, you accidentally stumble on your feet and go flying forward.

Strong arms wrap around you within a moment, one made out of a now freezing metal.

"I got you," Bucky assures, "I got you."

You hear him loud and clear now despite his voice barely being above a whisper. The drumming of rain seems like an irrelevant background noise.

You turn to him, grinning like an idiot. His hair is stuck to his face. He shakes his head at you but is unable to hide his own smile.

No words need to be exchanged in the moment as his hands rest on your waist, and your arms loop around his neck.

You look at James with possibly all the love you hold and softly press your lips against his. It is easy to forget everything with him, even easier to forget the bad things.

He puts his arm on your neck and pulls away. "You're going to get sick."

"I've accepted it," you confess quickly, chasing his lips.

He shakes his head again but lets you kiss him regardless.

You got sick for a week afterward, but it was well worth it. Especially when you had James looking after you.

[rottenpumpkin13]

Cloud's small hand wrapped around his mother's finger as he babbled. Claudia laughed, burying her nose in his soft blond hair and nuzzling him gently. "Happy first birthday," she whispered.

-

Cloud’s second birthday was marked by excited squeals when he saw the brightly colored toy train his mother presented him. “Tain!” he exclaimed as Claudia set it in his lap, laughing as she pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. “Happy birthday, my darling.”

-

“Cloud!” Claudia laughed on the afternoon of Cloud's third birthday, watching the excited toddler dig his fist into his chocolate birthday cake and happily grab the candle between his messy fingers. “You're not supposed to do that!”

-

“Why is it raining today?” four-year-old Cloud huffed, upset as he sat by the window and watched the early August rain hammer against the glass. “I wanna go outside!”

“Think of the rain as a birthday gift!” his mother called back from the kitchen. “Now you can go out and play in the mud!”

Cloud grinned, lighting up as he leapt off the chair and bolted outside. It was going to be a good birthday indeed.

-

Claudia gifted him a small, blue backpack for his fifth birthday, perfect for his first day at the schoolhouse the following week. “I like it!” Cloud declared, slipping the backpack on.

-

“Woah!” Cloud mused as he ran into the kitchen on the morning of his sixth birthday. There, a wooden sword with a red bow tied around its hilt sat waiting for him. “It's exactly like a SOLDIER’s, right mom?”

-

Cloud's seventh birthday was somber as he sat alone with a small cake his mother made. None of the village kids showed up for his party.

-

“I wonder what Sephiroth did on his eighth birthday,” Cloud wondered aloud as he hung the poster his mother had gifted him on his bedroom wall.

-

“Hey!” Tifa waved to him as he was going back into the house after playing. Cloud blushed, self-consciously wiping away the dirt from his clothes. “H-Hey!” he called back.

Tifa smiled. “Happy birthday!” she said. “Nine is a big age!” And then she dipped back into her own house. Cloud sighed. Not big enough to join SOLDIER.

-

“Maybe everyone's just late,” his mother, ever the optimist, suggested on the evening of his tenth birthday. It was nine. Everyone was supposed to be there at six. Cloud shook his head, ripping off his party hat and looking at the cake his mother had baked with a mix of guilt and nausea.

“No, mom. They're just not coming.”

-

Cloud started his eleventh birthday by measuring himself on the door frame. “Aw, man” he groaned, stepping back to see that his height had not changed from the previous year.

-

Cloud spent the evening of his twelfth birthday on the water tower, looking up at the stars, wondering what it would be like to touch them, hearing the soft sounds of the piano drifting from Tifa’s room. It was the birthday he decided to stop trying to make birthdays special.

-

On his thirteenth birthday, Cloud's mother gave him a suitcase. “Woah,” Cloud mused, impressed as he picked it up, weighing it for size. “Mom, are you serious?”

Claudia smiled softly. "For the journey ahead," she said, pulling him into a hug.

-

Fourteen was the age Cloud stopped wishing for material possessions for his birthdays. He wanted only three things: to finally join SOLDIER, a friend, and to take care of his mother.

-

Cloud's fifteenth birthday gift was given to him early that morning, with chaos and laughter giving way into the moment his squad mates woke him up. They grabbed him out of his bed and dragged him into a cold shower. He pretended to laugh, to enjoy the seemingly harmless prank, but inside he was mortified. And now very cold.

-

On his sixteenth birthday, Zack handed Cloud a cupcake with a single, flickering candle. Cloud hadn't been expecting it, but he should've figured something was up the minute Zack walked up to him with his arms behind his back, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"What did you wish for?" Zack asked the minute Cloud blew out the flame.

Cloud huffed. “As if I'd tell you.”

“Hey!” Zack laughed, punching him playfully. “Don't forget, you can't talk to me like that anymore. I'm the adult here—eighteen trumps your sixteen!”

Cloud laughed with him, staring down at his cupcake. He wished all birthdays would be like this.

-

Cloud wasn't awake for his seventeenth birthday. Hojo's calculating gaze scrutinized him through the glass of the mako tank.

-

Eighteen came with a metaphorical slap to the face. "Subject approximately eighteen,” Hojo muttered, observing Cloud in his cell. Cloud's sense of time was warped. Zack was eighteen too, wasn't he?

-

Cloud was strapped to a table on his nineteenth birthday. The lab was filled with the sound of his screams.

-

On his twentieth birthday, Cloud watched through the mako tank as Zack was subjected to a torment familiar to him—strapped to the table, enduring agony under a knife, his screams piercing the air. Cloud couldn't do anything.

-

Cloud's twenty-first birthday passed in a haze as he lay comatose. But Zack was determined. He pulled him closer in the back of the truck they had hitched a ride in. "Happy birthday, buddy,” Zack whispered, placing a soft kiss on his forehead.

-

On his twenty-second birthday, Cloud stood motionless as Tifa hugged him tightly. "Happy birthday!” she said, holding enough excitement within her to last him a lifetime. Twenty-two, he kept repeating in his mind. Was he really twenty-two already?

-

Cloud spent the early hours of the morning on his twenty-third birthday staring into a bathroom mirror. He traced his fingers over his face, looking at every line, every scar, his hair, his nose, everything. It was so strange. This was the age Zack was when he died.

-

On his twenty-fourth birthday, Cloud sat beside the Buster Sword, tears streaming down his face. "I'm sorry," he sobbed quietly. He was now older than Zack would ever be.

[eddie-stinks-munson]

Can't Keep My Eyes Off Of You- Eddie Munson

Prompt: “Being unable to keep their eyes off of them”  Eddie Munson x Reader Word Count: 723 There are some femme characteristics but readers gender isn't otherwise specified, no y/n I told myself I'd write at least one fic before my vacation was over, this is it ---

Eddie Munson was a lot of things, but a star student wasn’t one of them. School was a drag, and he could scarcely find a reason to tune into whatever bullshit the teachers were spouting that day. 

Mrs. Clicks class was the most insufferable by far. The high pitch of her voice was grating, and she was constantly droning on about how “America is the greatest country by far.” 

“Sorry I’m late,” came a voice from the back of the class, in a tone that said they weren’t the least bit sorry, “I overslept.”

Eddie, who had been told time and again that subtly wasn’t his strong suit, whipped his head around. He’d know that voice anywhere, rough around the edges with a hidden softness in the center. That voice filled his dreams, both day and night. 

His eyes met yours, and there you stood, in the back of the classroom. A vision of complete and utter perfection. Black makeup smeared bored eyes, and a grin of cherry red lipstick. 

“Good of you to join us. Take your seat before you further interrupt my lesson.” Mrs. Click responded, with a timbre of disdain she reserved only for a special few students. 

You rolled your eyes and gave a half hearted, sarcastic salute before making your way to your desk. It was one row in front of Eddie, and just to his right. He sighed heavily as you sat down, paying attention was hard enough before. But now with you sitting right there, he found it impossible to even try and look at the board. 

Class was half over and Eddie spent the grand majority of that time either counting the droplets of rain racing down the window, or watching the way your face scrunched up in disgust anytime Mrs. Click voiced an outdated, and flat out incorrect opinion. 

At one point, she’d said something so absurd you turned around and looked at Eddie. Brows furrowed dramatically, as if to say, “can you fuckin believe her?” 

Eddie just rolled his eyes and shook his head. If he was being honest, he hadn’t even heard what Click said. He was too busy watching the way your cutoff Dead Kennedy’s t-shirt rode up when you stretched. 

Any time Eddie tried to look at anything else, you did something to bring his attention back to you. He was half convinced you were doing it on purpose at this point. Like the way you moved your sleep disheveled hair to the side, showing off the curve of your neck/ It was such unmitigated perfection. There was no way it wasn’t a calculated attempt on your part to distract him. 

You were fidgeting with the rings on your fingers, and Eddie was absently mirroring you when the bell ripped him from his reverie. When you got up from your desk, you looked at Eddie and smiled. 

He was so excited when you started walking towards him instead of the door he had to remind himself to breathe. By the time you got to him, his heart was hammering so loudly in his ears he stupidly worried he wouldn’t be able to hear what you were saying to him. 

“I can feel you staring, you know.” You said, trying but very clearly failing to suppress a smile. 

“Sorry, Sweetheart,” Eddie replied, more sheepishly than he intended, rubbing the back of his neck, hoping against hope that it would keep the blush he felt creeping up at bay. “Subtly isn’t my strong suit.” 

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you mused, playfully pushing his shoulder. 

“It’s a hard burden to bear, but someone’s gotta do it,” he said, as his face heated up like a goddamn furnace. He was red as the devil, and he knew it. 

“Shut up,” you laughed, then looked around to make sure no one was listening. “Want to skip second period? We can smoke in the woods, I’ll buy.” 

Eddie gently grabbed both sides of your face, looked you deeply in the eyes as his heart settled in his throat, and earnestly said, “If I EVER say no to that, I’m going to need you to kill me. Because I’ve obviously been replaced by a doppelgänger, and the real me is long dead and turning in his grave.”

[honeytae]

“you refuse to meet his gaze, afraid that your carefully constructed facade will crumble if you do. and it seems like that's exactly what is happening - the walls you've built around yourself are slowly falling apart.”

genre: angst, fluff, comfort

warnings: reader is overworked af and petrified of showing vulnerability, brief argument between reader and jk but only bc he cares, so many tears..like a LOT of crying, descriptions of kissing, make out sesh💋, an unforgivable amount of fluff and L bombs, i really didn’t know what to call this one so it’s just riptide, sorry not sorry you guys

wc: 2k

the air in the apartment is mostly silent, save for the gentle scratch of lead on paper and the muted pattering of rain against the windows in your home office.

jungkook’s teeth play with his bottom lip as he fidgets in his seat, intently observing you from the opposite end of the table.

across from him, your brows knit together in an attempt to focus, lips pursed in concentration as you stop for a moment, then resume moving your pencil across the page.

he cringes at the disruption of his phone vibrating on the table, abruptly snapping you out of your daze.

as your pencil slips out of your grasp, you sit up straight and flex your fingers around in the air to release some of the tension residing in your joints.

jungkook murmurs an apology but you brush it off, glancing wearily at him and providing a small smile. a sigh of relief escapes you as he leans in, taking your hand in his and gently massaging your tired fingers with a few strokes of his own.

“that feels good,” you mumble, shifting closer to the table for more of his touch.

he hums softly, taking another few moments to work his fingers into your skin, creating a small pocket of silence.

"are you bored?" you ask, feeling a twinge of guilt for leaving him essentially alone at the table. "i'm sorry, baby, i'll be finished in just a few more minutes."

jungkook shrugs in response, casual as he moves his arm to gently rub up and down your own. his touch is comforting and helps ease your anxiety, preventing you from spiraling further.

“it's okay,” he reassures you with a gentle smile, “just take your time. i'll be here.”

his eyes shift from your face to your hand, a frown forming as he notices the red mark on your finger, evidence of how tightly you've been holding your pencil.

you watch, endeared, as he leans down to kiss the spot, then replaces his lips with his finger, gently rubbing over the indentation to soothe the redness.

"you work so hard," he says, tutting his tongue as he continues running his thumb over the spot.

you can only manage a sigh in response, feeling drained and unable to speak. plus, tears are starting to form in your eyes, and you’re desperately trying to hold them back. jungkook notices, of course he does.his expression turns into one of concern as he studies your face, trying to assess the situation.

your mouth is set in a deep frown, almost a scowl, and your eyebrows are furrowed in discomfort from holding back your true emotions. you refuse to meet his gaze, afraid that your carefully constructed facade will crumble if you do. and it seems like that's exactly what is happening - the walls you've built around yourself are slowly falling apart.

in a rush, he rises from his chair and rounds the table, your eyes following him through tears.

once next to you, his fingers weave through your hair, leading your head to rest on his stomach. he wraps his arm around you and massages the tension from your shoulders as you nestle into the soft fabric of his t-shirt, taking in the familiar scent of his laundry detergent.

“time for a break?” he muses, watching as you adamantly shake your head in response.

“i just need to finish,” you reply, trying to stifle the lump in your throat.

he watches as you draw your laptop closer while blinking rapidly to chase away any tears.

you’ve always been one to persevere, which he greatly respects. but it also irritates him that at times, you don’t allow yourself to fully feel.

jungkook suppresses a groan as he watches you type something else into your search engine, briefly tilting his head up to the ceiling in frustration and closing his eyes to take a deep breath.

it can be hard, to watch those you love push themselves beyond their limit. he understands, knowing that he often puts you through the same thing.

you and him share an achilles heel of refusing to give up easily, which is both a blessing and a curse.

the sound of your fingers tapping on the keyboard snaps him out of his trance and he reopens his eyes, sneaking another glance over your shoulder.

he’s about to drop it altogether when he sees your bottom lip quiver, his breath hitching in his throat when the first tear makes it over your lash line.

“baby,” he utters softly, nearly tripping over the leg of the chair he pulls out from the table to sit beside you.

you can’t help but let out a throaty chuckle at his clumsiness, swiping the single tear from your cheek and trying to wave him off.

“i’m okay,” you sniffle, but jungkook just shakes his head in disbelief. he leans forward, balancing on his knees as he takes your fidgeting hands in his own, running his fingers gently along your knuckles.

“seriously, jungkook, i’m fine. stop making it bigger than it is,” you attempt to push him away, but he refuses to budge.

“stop making it smaller than it is!” he counters, voice raising slightly as his anger takes over.

he takes a breath, continuing in a softer voice.“baby, i’m not gonna stop until you let me in.”

his brows furrow in frustration, wide eyes pleading with you.

in the heat of the moment, you hate how intrusive he’s being. you hate that he sees you as his responsibility and that your struggles are ruining his day.

“jungkook, if i’m just a burden-“

“a burden?” he interrupts in disbelief, “you could never be a burden,” he reaches for your hand when you try to get up. “hey, all i ever want to do is help you, because i love you,” he stresses.

his words instantly calm your mounting emotions, preventing you from any more self sabotage.

“i love you,” he says again, “and i cannot sit here and watch you ruin yourself.”

you simply blink at him, the last of your resolve shattering when he starts to soothingly caress your arm with his warm palm.

even when you’re so difficult, he’s so unbelievably kind to you.

“please let yourself not be okay,” he begs, eyebrows pulling together, pained, as he watches you stifle a sob. “it’s so hard to watch you be so strong all the time,” he says, “please don’t shut me out.”

and just like that, your wall comes tumbling down.

jungkook’s emotions bubbling to the surface seem to be the final push for you to tip over the edge. tears now stream down your face, features crumbling as you weakly lift yourself from your chair.

jungkook’s arms reach out to pull you into him, intercepting your body as you launch yourself onto his lap. his lips press repeatedly to the side of your head as he wraps his arms around your stuttering back, squeezing you to him.

“let go, baby,” he says, feeling tears well up in his own eyes as you collapse in his arms, “just let go.”

broken sobs wrack your frame as you cling onto him, one of his hands securely holding the back of your head while the other runs up and down your spine.

the dam has finally broken, and its cathartic for both of you.

soothing words are spoken softly into your ear as your breaths begin to even out, your face finding solace in the crook of his neck.

after a few minutes, your cries quiet and the pool of tears starts to dry on his skin.

jungkook leans back to glance over your face, reaching up to swipe at the leftover tear trails on your cheeks with his thumb.

“feel a little lighter in here?” he inquires, dancing his fingers over your scalp as you lift your reddened eyes to lock with his.

“a little,” you sniff, leaning into his touch as he starts massaging the crown of your head.

“hm, good,” he murmurs, “we’re making progress then.”

wordlessly, you stare into his big brown irises, the whites of his eyes showing evidence of his own tears. despite this, his mouth quirks in a small smile, and the guilt from ten minutes ago consumes you.

“fuck, i’m so sorry,” your frown deepens, closing your eyes when his lips press to your temple, remaining against your heated skin. “i’m so sorry for lashing out at you, i’m just,” you sigh, “i’m just overwhelmed and,” you glance up in thought, “in my own head.”

“i understand, baby,” he soothes, warm eyes finding yours to show he’s being genuine. “it’s all gonna work out, i promise.”

you inhale and sit up straighter, cupping his cheeks as you position your face in front of his. you stare at each other for a moment before he cups your jaw, adoringly squishing your cheeks with his fingers.

jungkook laughs as you pucker your lips, sliding his hands down to rest under your jaw when you tilt your head to the side, pressing your mouth to his.

with each pass of his lips over yours, you feel the ache in your head lessen. your heart reaches out for him and squeezes him closer to you.

he hums as you pull back and immediately go in for more, taking turns capturing your bottom and top lip between his. you grip on tighter to him to momentarily stop the world from spinning around you.

breaking apart for air, jungkook giggles as you unattractively sniff with your full nose, your fingers absentmindedly playing with his hair.

“sexy, huh?” you raise a brow, and jungkook’s features warm when the sparkle returns to your eye.

“duh,” he rolls his eyes, and there’s a beat of comfortable silence as you both recover from your breakdown.

“i love you so much,” you murmur, “thank you for everything you do.”

“yah, kiss-ass,” he teases, his high-pitched laugh escaping his mouth when you pinch his side as punishment for his snark.

“ugh, nevermind,” you sigh as you stand up, and he smiles at you in return, holding onto your hand to help you back over into your chair.

“i love you more,” he sings, chortling as you squint your eyes at him in response.

you redirect your gaze back to your notebook, still looking tired but not as weary as you did before.

jungkook lifts himself to reassume his position from earlier and stands behind you, dropping his arms around your neck. you tilt your neck as he plants a kiss onto the top of your head.

sensing your reluctance to go back to work, he leans down further, his cheek pressing against yours. the gesture seems to melt you back into your chair as the both of you stare ahead at your laptop screen.

“okay,” he starts, understanding your process, “how about some tea to get you through this last part?”

he waits patiently as you think it over. his eyes travel from the screen to your features, staring at your lashes touching your cheek each time you blink.

there’s a hint of water clinging to your bottom lashes, and the sight makes his heart squeeze in his chest.

“yeah, actually,” you answer softly, gently craning your neck so that you can press your lips to his, kissing him one, two, three, four times.

“you’re the best boyfriend ever,” you whisper against his lips, some of the tension in your body already subsiding.

his cheeks go pink with your praise, dark eyes catching the dining room light as he puffs air out of his nostrils.

wordlessly, you let your head hang off the back of the chair, closing your eyes when jungkook’s hand comes to support the back of your head, dipping down to kiss you again.

his fingers rub soothing circles into your neck, causing an involuntary noise to rise up from your throat.

you break apart with a “tch,” noise, pouting when he pulls his arms from around you.

“nooo,” you try to grip onto his fingers, jungkook chuckling as he pokes your bottom lip back into place.

meeting your lips one last time, it takes everything in him to step away from you, pointing at your dimmed laptop screen.

“i’ll be right back,” he soothes, “and i promise i’ll sit here with you the whole time.”

you smile despite yourself, because jungkook is simply the light of your life.

“you better. you’re my emotional support human.”

[rainystarters]

⭒˚｡🖁‧₊˚ 〖 down these mean streets . . . 〗 a collection of scene prompts inspired by n͟e͟o͟-n͟o͟i͟r͟, v͟i͟o͟l͟e͟n͟c͟e͟, c͟o͟n͟t͟r͟o͟l͟, e͟t͟c͟. some prompts usfw. add +reversed for the receiving muse to be "the sender" instead. adjust details as necessary.

dead end. there's nowhere left to run; the sender has cornered you at last. anonymous. disguising your voice, you call the sender to threaten/warn them. loose ends. you thought you killed them! but there's the sender, walking your way. ashtray. your cigarette smokes as you extinguish it on the sender's skin. deck. you lick the sender's blood from your knuckles, still stinging from the punch. backstab. end of the road, pal—you reveal you're double-crossing the sender. blunt. hidden in the shadows, you press your gun to the sender's back.

heel. you stare at the sender from across the room and beckon them to you. fix. not looking like that—disapproving, you fix the sender's appearance. tilt. you take the sender's chin in your hand and make them meet your gaze. staccato. irritated, the sender drums their fingers against you beneath the table. listen. the sender disobeys and you swat their curious hand away. fasten. just something i picked up—you clasp a necklace/tie/etc. on the sender. quiet. you press a finger to the sender's lips and tell them to be patient.

vomit. you can't handle this; you vomit as the sender groans about leaving evidence. wink. don't worry—you wink as you assure the sender you have no morals to offend. up front. the sender's job is a doozy; you demand half the payment now or you walk. hush. talk is cheap but you sure aren't. you accept the hush money from the sender. crossfire. you realize the sender asking you to put out a hit is your next target. gulp. hard to argue with a bullet; you agree to the sender's demands. jugular. you hold your breath as the sender uses you to demonstrate how the murder weapon was used to strangle the victim.

patron. you know the sender is hired to keep you spending but you linger anyway. last call. the sender has one final cigarette in their pack; you take it without asking. loose lips. the sender pours you another glass as you finally confess. bills. it's on me—you pay for the sender's meal. cozy. there aren't enough seats open; you pull the sender onto your lap with a grin. coffee. you look like hell—you press a cup of coffee to the sender's hands. waiting. you duck into the bus stop to escape the rain, intruding on the sender.

gutter. the trail of blood ends and you find the sender broken on the ground. speak up. you press the knife in deeper as the sender swears they didn't betray you. plaster. it's not pretty but it'll do; you wince as the sender patches your wounds. empty. you laugh at the sender as you throw your gun aside, finally out of bullets. rat. the sender falls to their knees and agrees to tell you everything they know. smother. you clasp a hand over the sender's mouth to keep from being heard. cut our losses. the sender won't make it; you leave them to die.

voyeur. you know the sender's watching; you open the blinds so they can watch. slip of the tongue. the sender whispers another's name against your skin. sign here. the sender traces a finger over [your choice], asking you to leave a mark. desk. your most enticing assignment yet: the sender bent over your desk. handcuffs. the sender dangles the key, teasing, but you hope they take their time. window. you press the sender against the glass, watching the city watching them. harsh light. what's worse? the hangover or that you can't recall the sender's name.

[charnelhouse]

Ok, I'm sure you're already writing something with Red, Ghost and Soap, BUT in that public smut you wrote... she somewhat flirted back / agreed to Soap with his offer to cuddle. I wonder if Ghost was murmuring some stuff (while balls deep) to arouse her further about inviting Soap... like along the lines of having Soap open her up, so she can take his {Ghost} larger member etc. Is that what the giggle was about? And morning after now that Soap has suspicions confirmed about Ghost and Red... can he be chill? Will he be chill if he got an invite? Anyway, musings in anonymous.

A/N: Simon Ghost Riley x F!Reader. Mentions of anal. Smut. A dash of soap. Parallel to subtle.

“Cuddle with Soap?”

“Cuddle” is full of grit. Ghost spits it out like a dirty word as if allowing Johnny to hold you would have been akin to anal sex.

You palm his cheek, thumb digging under the edge of his mask. His cock is inside you, thick and searing. He drives forward in long, sharp strokes. “You know - oh fuck - you know I wasn’t - wasn’t going to.”

“Do I?” he rumbles, lying flat on top of you, hips rolling between your spread thighs, insistent.

It’s raining outside the safe house. A full, swollen storm pelting against the one window. The trees are swimming together, branches and dead leaves making music. Price is out front on watch. The others are asleep in the corner and Ghost had reached for you in the dark.

“We can’t.”

“The storm’s too loud. No one’ll hear.”

"I don't think-"

"I need you, Duchess."

He braces his weight, his eyes glinting in the holes of his mask as he appraises you. You clutch at him, holding tight even though he’s got you pinned. You can smell him every time you bury your nose in his soft sweatshirt: a lit tobacco pipe in the rain. He rocks forward and rows back at a consistent rhythm, soaking in the warm, slick clutch of your sex. He might do this until morning, until dawn slinks gem-red over the room. He’s tried it before. He’s succeeded.

You should have been a porn star with that stamina. I need a wheelchair.

If you think that will get you out of training, think again, Red.

No matter how subtly he fucks you, he’s still heavy, his cock so big that every plunge aches like an old burn. He punches the breath from your lungs, his bare hand finding purchase over your mouth when you whimper or grunt. The pleasure is debilitating. He blankets you, holding you down, stabbing deep, but careful not to make any noise that could awaken the others. 

You’re so wet that you hope the shift and graze of his pants, his boots creaking on the floor is enough to mute the crude song of him claiming your pussy. 

“We could ask him to join, hmm?” He nuzzles his covered nose along your jaw. “Should I have him stick his prick in you, open you up for me?”

You clench. It’s totally not your fault, but you lock up, choke his cock. “Shit,” you whisper as he sinks deeper and groans against your throat. 

“Dirty girl,” He grasps your hip, squeezes until it’ll bruise, which you wouldn’t mind. You love the marks he leaves on your skin since he’s so careful about publicizing his desire for you outside of these moments. “You fuckin’ liked that.”

His tone is etched with slight bitterness.

“I didn’t,” you murmur, but his dark eyes glisten like seal skin, they’re full of a longing that pinches your nipples - your spine - every branch of nerves. You feel so on display. The attraction for Soap can’t be helped. He’s gorgeous and hilarious, ripples like a white-yellow sun. He’s flirtatious and thrilling and you have the gut feeling that Soap eats pussy with an unreal enthusiasm. 

He’s not Ghost, though. 

He’s not Simon.

He peers down at you, the weight of him in your cunt swelling and pulsing. You’re stretched to your limit, your knees clamped against his muscular torso. The fabric of his under armor is silky against your bare skin. He’s staring so intently that you feel awkward - nervous as hell.

You giggle. A reflex. 

No. No. I don’t want to get dicked down by Johnny. 

“Liar,” Ghost finally accuses as he grinds his pelvis into your clit. You arch, nails stabbing into the nape of his neck. You can feel the strain in his tendons, the bunching of his shoulder blades. He’s balls deep, crushing your body but keeping his hand firmly planted beneath your head to protect it.

“I’d-I’d only let him if you were there,” you confess. “Inside me…fuck…holding me while-“

“Inside you?” Ghost rumbles. “You want Johnny to fill somewhere else, then?” He slides one broad hand beneath your ass, lifting your hips and thrusting down so sharply you choke. “Could you handle it, love?”

He’s in your lungs. Your guts. He’s embedded in your nervous system and you can’t remember human language. 

“Shit,” you hiss.

“Aw,” he murmurs, audibly impressed with himself. “That’s my girl.”

You bite your lip, eyes rolling back when he delivers another deliberate stroke, his length drags through your walls, ridged and colossal. It hurts just the right amount.

“I could handle it,” you answer hoarsely. “You know I could.” 

You tug him down to press your lips to the skull’s teeth, desperate to kiss him, but no that you can’t right here, right now. Ghost goes easily, allowing you to manhandle him. That’s the thing about Simon. He can toss you around, lift you against a wall and fuck you dumb, but he’s always ready to be delicate or subservient when you need him to be.

Your head falls back as you blink up at him, offer him a pointed flutter of your lashes. Ghost actually stiffens, grows harder, massive thighs forcing your knees apart. “Don’t you look at me with those bloody fuckin’ eyes,” he husks. “Tryin’ to distract me.”

“We were talking threesomes, Simon.”

“If you think I’m gonna let that cunt taste you tonight-“

“Tonight?” you echo. “So then tomorrow?”

He pauses, dropping his head and shaking it. He laughs softly. “You’re impossible.”

“You love it.”

“You’re a pain in my arse.”

“You are in mine.”

“I’m not in there yet,” he mutters as he slides one leather-covered finger along the crease of your ass. “But we’ve got a long time ‘til morning.”

You smirk, contracting your lower muscles until his pace stutters. 

“Fuck, Duchess.”

“You’d break me if you tried that.”

“Nah,” he assures you, circling his pelvis before pushing further as if he could hit your womb. His mouth is right against your ear. “You know how good I’d make it, yeah? Use my fingers…my tongue…until you’re so fuckin’ ready-“

“Mmm maybe Soap can help. Double-team, yah know?”

His fist slams against the floor. There’s a snarl behind his mask. 

“Okay, okay,” you soothe him, petting his burly shoulders. You press a soft kiss to his covered cheek before you lie back and let him continue. “No more Johnny talk.”

You’ll table it for later. 

[beautyyandthebeatt]

pls its so rare to see good loona wlw smut😭😭can i pretty please request anything w mean dom gp heejin?? i bet she'd be huge🫣

Forgive me for my absence and awful response time, I had to drop most things as I was experiencing the beginning - and later diagnosis of an incurable illness lmao 😭 Hope you like this, though ! (if you see this)

dom!heejin, dubcon, brief degradation, overstim (not in the fun way 😕)

Heejin and you had become housemates at the beginning of the year. Though it had felt like a millennium to you, she had - and continues to annoy you to no end. She was always loud, so incredibly loud; by the way she blared her music whenever she decided that her room had fallen too quiet; the way she shouted over her mic to her equally as loud friends while she played video games until late at night; the way she’ll bring any girl she was able to wrangle into bed that night back to your very un-soundproof apartment- wrecking the poor soul right against her paper-thin walls, forcing you out to stay with a friend. She was insufferable, you thought, no redeeming qualities besides that pretty face. Though, you’d never admit that part out loud.

Despite your very apparent sourness towards her, she had always had a sort of affinity towards you. Bent over the couch, her hands placed by your shoulders, craning her neck down to see what you were reading(despite having no real interest in books); offering her sweater to you if she had noticed you become cold; always wanting to sit with you and making attempts at conversation around the house. It was almost puppy-like, which you found odd in contrast to the sleaziness of her other behaviours. —

It was morning and you had awoken to soft drops of rain lapping at your window. The pittering followed you into the kitchen after you heard the girl Heejin had last night exit her room and leave out of the front door. You heard Heejin enter behind you. “That’s your latest girl gone, then?” you mutter your attention fixed on the coffee you were beginning to prepare. She presses herself up against your back “Yeah, she just left.. why? You jealous?” you could hear her smile. “Oh, please” you scoff, you see your eyes narrowing in the reflection of the glass kettle, as does she. Her arms snake around your waist. “I’m glad it finally dawned on you.” that smile comes to nest near your neck, you can see her clouded in the seething water of the kettle. You go to turn yourself and storm away from her only to find her unmoving, caging you between hip and arms. “You’ve got to lose that attitude, y/n.” her free hand grips your jaw, short nails searing marks into your cheeks. “Heejin-” her grip tightens, eliciting a whine from you. Shame burns across your cheeks, your face hot under her grasp. “Quiet.”

You wanted to push her away - you could’ve - but you didn’t. Despite your better judgement you stilled - wilfully laid limp for her. Her grip shifts to your hips, turning you back around and bending you over the counter, forcing your head down onto its surface, the coolness of the laminate blooming across your burning cheek. Being in such a position makes you unable to turn around to see her hitch your skirt, lazily throwing the garment over your waist before taking to your panties. Her index and middle fingers slip underneath the fabric and her thigh keeps your legs pried open. She pushes her fingers inside musing cruelly at the slick that coats her fingers, mocking you for how ‘pliable’ you’re being for her.

Your voice catches in your throat as you feel the blunt head of her cock force itself into the place her fingers had just left. Your fists clench, crescent moons burn into the palms of your hands, trying desperately in some way to ease the pain from being split open by her. Feeling the tip of her cock finally fit inside she wastes no time ramming the rest of her length into you, paying no mind to the pained whines and moans that quickly follow. Cruel remarks soon devolve into pleasured sighs that slip from fully parted lips. It’s not as though you could understand another word of what she spat at you, you can't make sense of words anymore, too lost in the ragged drag of her cock. Heejin’s thrusts become more desperate, her grip tightens and roams to get a better hold of you. Her fingers pass through your lips - ring and middle forced down your throat, craning your head back to an almost 90 degree angle, making the tendons of your neck burn. More tears stain your already drool slick face. You sputter around her, drooling pathetically between choked moans as you feel her teeth graze your nape, “hm ? You like that ?” Heat twists in your core.  “Fucking whore.” Her hips stutter, rutting her growingly sensitive cock up against your cervix. You feel her tense inside of you, panting and groaning as she unloads every drop of frustration she held towards you deep into your cunt, pleased at finally, in her mind, winning you over. You quickly follow suit, dragged to climax, almost too numb to even tell.

You couldn't recall much of what happened after besides hearing her fixing her jeans back up around her waist before leaving you there, clinging to the counter-top, knees buckled, her cum spilling from your ruined cunt.

[chariaki]

A sudden romance like the sudden fall of rain.

Yuji Itadori x reader

September has entered, which means winter is near, which also means storms are raging. The thunderstorms lasted for five days straight, making the climate unbearably cold, the ground wet and the roofs clattering with the continous fall of rain drops.

Your high school suspended classes for those past few days, and today...the weather had calmed down and there wasn't any prior announcement, so you went on your way to school.

You entered the campus, feeling odd with the sight of an empty lobby. It was already 6:30 am. You figured you got there too early and headed to the hallway to your classroom, that was until a familiar figure popped out. It was Yuji! In all his beautiful glory, looking as confused as you did.

Oh! Let me introduce him. Yuji Itadori, your classmate ever since your first year of high school, and...your crush. You don't remember when and how you fell for him, but you know why. He's just so bright, funny, kind, and weird, in a good way!

His curious eyes lingered on you.

"Yn! Good morning! What are you doing here?" He tilted his head, a soft smile on his face. As always, he was refreshing.

"huh? I'm here for school... just like you?" You wondered why he asked the obvious, until it dawned on you to check your phone, and what a surprise!

"Oh. They cancelled it again, huh?"

"Hehe.. Yeah.. " Yuji chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. You looked at him, his uniform was a little wet from the rain, his jacket keeping him warm, in his hand was a big red umbrella, and in the hallways was just the two of you.

"Do you wanna come with me to check with the teachers?" He waited for your response, eyes filled with... hope.

"Yeah, sure!" You nodded, walking closer to him, awkwardly walking beside him.

You weren't really close friends with him, so it was new for you to walk beside him. So closely that your shoulders brush against each other. So closely that you smell his perfume. So closely that you feel his body heat radiate from beside you.

You accused yourself for leaning so close to him.

In the midst of the quiet patter of your footsteps and the jokes Yuji made to ease the atmosphere, your mind couldn't help but imagine him and you as a couple.

The thought of you and him walking to school together, him ranting about how he stayed up late to finish assignments, you nodding along, him making jokes, you laughing at him, him stealing glances of your smile, you, unknowingly wishing he liked you too.

You reached the teacher's office. He peeked a glance at the window, the door was locked, the lights were turned off. It really was just you and him in school.

"Looks like we were too excited to get here" He laughed, body swaying randomly, eyes wandering around, mind waiting for you.

"Ahhh. Yeah" You awkwardly mused. You could feel his eyes intent on you.

"Well-"

"Well-"

"..."

"Oh." You simultaneously uttered, again.

"You go first, Itadori."

"Well then, shall we go home?" He casually stated, as if it was a given that he would walk home with you. As if he would actually feel sad to leave without you.

"Home? Us?... together? " You were surprised. You were gonna awkwardly bid him goodbye, because you thought he would want to walk by himself. But the way he just casually included you, made you remember why you like him. He didn't make anything awkward, unlike you, who was a flustered mess beside him.

"Yeah! Or, would you like to grab a snack?" He matched his walking pace with yours. Eyes focused on you, as they always have been.

"I would love to."

You were happy you went to school early before checking on the announcements, because that meant that you were met with another person who was as clumsy as you, and luckily, as you believed fate would have it, that clumsy guy was Yuji Itadori.

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

In the empty path from school walked two students, ignorant of the cold wind that whooshed their way, for it was their hearts that warmed their being. Completely unaware that the other feels the same way.

Content with simply being able to bask in each other's presence, with him clueless to the way your eyes evidently adore him, and with you, who was oblivious to the fact that it wasn't you who leaned closer, it was him.

[ohimsummer]

SATORU, your muse ｡˚✐~

— Satoru eases open the door of the house. You’re not home, so he doesn’t feel the need to make his usual grand entrance. Shoes are left at the door, jacket on the rack, and Satoru makes way to the bedroom. Once inside, something on your nightstand immediately catches his eye.

It’s your sketchbook; a now worn, leather notepad that he’d bought you months ago after the old one was filled. You rarely, if ever, let him see your artwork, so Gojo would usually resort to peeking over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of what you were working on. He always teased you for keeping your art a secret, but now that he has a chance to look at your projects uninterrupted, he hesitates. For a second.

Satoru flips open to the first page. It’s just random doodles of flowers and animals, ones he recognizes from the garden in the park you two frequent. The next page warrants the same mundane results: bugs and trees and the tops of skyscrapers and whatever random things that would grab your interest while you two enjoyed the heat of the sun.

The next page catches Gojo by surprise. It’s a bird, but not just any bird, he realizes. It’s a songbird, one he’d half-heartedly pointed out to you one day because he recalled reading about it online. You weren’t even listening to him, or so he’d thought. It’s kind of endearing actually that you’d take the time to draw it. And it’s not just the bird, either. It’s the macaroons he’d mentioned wanting to get one evening, a bouquet consisting of a flower Gojo’d randomly plucked and presented to you, a familiar pair of sunglasses resting in grass, dabbed over top with faded blue watercolor paint. Numerous doodles of such small memories.

Satoru continues flipping to look at your little illustrated photo album. Some of these drawings are of stuff he barely remembers talking about, like a cracked open piggy bank obviously referencing a story he told you in passing. Gojo doesn’t even remember why he brought it up, but you’ve immortalized it here in your sketchpad with pencils and ink.

The drawings only grow more detailed as he gets deeper into the book, and a proud smile stretches across Satoru’s face at your talent. Rapid sketches of buildings and passerby evolve into self portraits of yourself, and he thinks you look so captivating in all of them. Gojo takes note of the silly doodles of even himself in the margins of the paper. Him in his sunglasses, him wearing the flower crown you’d poorly put together, him surrounded by ice cream and candy and the plethora of sweets he so enjoys. His favorites are the inane drawings of you two together, tiny and inhabiting multiple corners of every page. Each one is a delightful surprise to spot.

Satoru turns the next page, and he’s sincerely taken aback. Drawings of eyes, and they all look alike. They’re so detailed, adorned with pretty lashes and shaded so beautifully. He doesn’t have to wonder long on whose eyes these are, the next page bursting with the color blue tells Gojo all he needs to know. He’s glad you’re not here to see his reddening face and the way his breath hitched. This page, the next few actually, are all dedicated to his eyes. They’re inked perfectly, some are at different angles, and you’ve managed to portray emotion into all of them. Satoru wonders if he could draw a picture of you and showcase the absolute adoration in your eyes the way you’ve done with his.

And it doesn’t stop there. Page after page, it’s all Satoru. Him sleeping with a mushed cheek against your chest, him drinking a soda, him looking out the window, him playing the game with Geto, when did you even draw these?

“Satoru?”

He quickly slams the book shut at your call, carefully placing it back on your nightstand and ushering himself from the room. There you are at the door, shaking the rain from your umbrella and leaving it on the mat near the entrance.

“There you are, love.,” you beam at his approaching figure, and Gojo squishes you in a warm embrace. “How was your day?”

Satoru kisses the crown of your head, and grins against your skin. He can’t wait to tell you all about today, maybe give you some more brilliant ideas to memorialize in your sketchbook.

[madxyy]

Tender morning

| pairings: steve x reader

| summary: just a rainy tender morning with your boyfriend <3

| warnings: steve being cute, fluff fluff fluff, touching wrists, robin mentioned once, baby and babe used, a lot of warmth, reader also being cute

author's note: ummm....hi

He presses delicate kisses along the hill of your shoulder, pillowy bow-like lips cascading down your back and cherishing the warm doughy flesh while soft affectionate whispers push past his pink lips. His serene breathing was warmly hitting your skin making the goosebumps on your skin pebble up. Honey brown hair gently scratches against your shoulder as he traces the top of your spine with the tip of his nose. The bedsheets crinkle as he presses himself further against you. One arm snaking around your stomach, drawing you in and tangling your limbs underneath the cool duvet. The feeling of his toned and hairy chest brushes against your back, earning a soft chuckle to escape your lips. His lips quirk at the sound and his drowsy hazel eyes glaze over at you. The sound of your chuckle made his heart throbbed in delight. God he swears he wants to hear that noise for the rest of his life.

“I knew you were awake,” he murmurs against your skin.

A smile forms on your lips, “no you didn’t.” 

You can hear shuffling behind you. He moves closer to you, the hand on your stomach moves and places itself in front of it, his palm pressing against the mattress. He lifts himself up while he starts to lean over your shoulder. He greets you with his classy steve harrington smile, this smile—as well as most of his smiles—was one reserved for you and you only. He always welcomed you back into reality with his sleepy and tender lopsided smile. That smile that you will always adore for the rest of your life.

“Let's lie and say I did, okay?” he says playfully, his voice still leaking with tiredness since the hoarseness is still lingering. Despite him being tired, that never stopped him from being affectionate. his eyes were already admiring and taking you in, he thought you were so beautiful in the morning, it always took his breath away. The funny thing is that you were doing the same exact thing. His mused brown hair waving at you as the breeze from the barely cracked window hits it, pink cheeks, hazy hazel eyes that makes your heart skip a beat each time you always see him for the first time since you cracked your eyes open. 

You forgot about his question and also forgot that you were “supposed” to respond with a witty or teasing comment since it was part of your routine each time you woke up next to him. The room filled with white noise of admiration. The only sound that can be heard is the rain pitter pattering against the windows, the overcast cloudy and gray, and the room taking in the musky scent of the outside since the window was cracked open a bit. The small breeze coming into the room breezes against you, not really feeling the breeze since you were basking in the warmth of each other’s presence. It was blissful. The cold breeze had nothing against you both, even that’s not enough to draw you both back into your senses.

He noticed you admiring him as well and he can’t help but tease you. The smile on his lips starts to form into a grin. He playfully rolled his eyes, “y’know if i wanted to be stared at, I could’ve just gone to work today.” He looks back at you, the same grin on his face. His voice snapped you out of your daze and it took you a few short moments to remember what he said before you rolled your eyes back at him and started to turn so you're now facing him, hands pressed underneath your cheek and pillow. Peering up at him with soft eyes and a small amusing smile, “oh, really?” you raise your eyebrows at him. “You only get stared at by robin each time you do anything stupid, babe…and that’s most of the time - according to her.” He scoffs and waves a dismissive hand at the mention of his best friend's name. He starts to sink back down against the cool duvet. The hand that waved slithers back down and around your back, drawing you closer to his chest. “First of all, don’t listen to robin okay? she likes to tell lies and yada, yada, yada…” he says the yada yada yada part with his free hand, opening and closing it like it’s talking while he bounces his head side to side to emphasize his point causing his hair to bounce along with his movement. The small single strand of hair pokes out of his hair after his bouncing, now the lonely strand hangs in front of his forehead. A soft chuckle bubbles in the back of your throat while rolling your eyes again, always loving his dramatics.

“Oh, I'm most certainly going to listen to robin because I know for a fact that she’s right," you said teasingly. It was like you just said the most absurd thing to him because once those words left your lips, his eyes widened and his mouth parted. Oh no, you knew where this was going and you were going to love every second of it. He was feigning being hurt before shaking his head and releasing a scoff. “Wow, just side with her instead of siding with your charming boyfriend, I get it.” he shrugs, pretending to shrug the hurt off. You chuckled and rolled your eyes again at him for the third time, your hands reaching out for him but he dodges away from your soft touch, trying to keep his act up. “no, no, no, i get it…” he murmurs while bouncing his head lightly like he’s just understanding something. You shake your head again, an amusing smile growing on your lips before moving your hands to cup his chin, gently putting a halt to his movements. He stops and looks over at you with warm eyes, biting back his grin.

“When are you going to stop being an idiot, steve harrington?” 

He pretends to ponder. Your hand on his chin restraining him from fully looking to the side (not like he wanted your hand to be anywhere else but touching him) so he settles to wander his eyes to the side with pursed lips. His beautiful and kissable lips. He lets out a considerable “hmmm,” dragging the mmm’s. Meanwhile, your eyes were gazing at him like he was the personification of love. And to you, he was, no matter what anyone says. His gaze lands back to you, making your heart skip a beat. 

Steve shrugs nonchalantly, “Maybe if I get my morning kiss then maybe…I mean I don’t know,” his hand slowly creeps up and moves towards your hand that’s holding his chin. Fingertips gently brush against the inside of your wrist before his warm and rough hands encircle your wrist, his thumb softly stroking the part where the thumb meets your wrist. The touch itself was leaving warm sparks on your skin, smiling at him. He leans closer until the tip of his nose brushes against yours making you let out a keen hum from the small but tender affection. “I'll think about it,” he whispers gently. Steve's eyes darted down to your beautiful and tantalizing lips that he has been wanting to kiss since he first woken up and saw you laying down beside him, looking so idyllic, but he’s a gentleman–at times–so he waits for your permission.

His gentle breath fanning against your parted lips. The corners of your mouths tugging up as you start to lean closer to him, brushing your lips against his, “fine” you whisper. “But you better be thinking about it,” the corners of his lips tugs up into a smirk, his eyes diverted from your lips to your eyes. Your eyes that always makes that blossoming warmth boil in his heart and chest. Tender eyes with a tinge of playfulness behind them. The classic Steve Harrington look. The gaze he gives you is so affectionate that it makes your heart feel syrupy. “Oh, cross my heart and hope to die babe,” he whispers back playfully while he gently lets go of your wrist. His hand migrates to the right side of your face, cradling it with his big and warm hands, slowly bringing you closer and closer until his lips are pressed against yours.

Just like always, it’s a flurry of love, respect, adoration, affection, and infatuation. The kiss was unhurried and dawdled. You both wanted this kiss to last because you know it would soon be ephemeral and you would both have to swim out of each other’s affection and breathe in reality once again. You both were deeply enamored with another. Each and every time he kisses you, it always reignites that warmth in the underbelly of your heart. That warmth he promised from day one that he would try his best to keep, and he has never broken that promise. He sighs softly into the kiss like it was a breath of relief to finally kiss you. The pad of his thumb strokes your cheek up and down in a slow and featherlight touch. You sigh back softly into his lips. One of your hands moving to the side of his nape, gently caressing the underside of where his ear and jaw meets. It was his turn to keen into the kiss, making you both smile warmly against pressed lips. This could go on ad infinitum, because both of you kept caressing each other’s lips, meeting overs and overs again, never wanting to leave one another but unfortunately you both were growing breathless and needed to pull away for oxygen. 

The first one to pull away was you followed by Steve chasing your lips, but then his movements stuttered once he realized that he also needed to breathe so he leaned his forehead against yours, noses brushing against one another delicately. His hand stayed on the right side of your face, caressing the doughy skin before his other hand came up and did the same. The caresses made a warmth creep onto your cheeks and both of your chests were swelling with bliss and felicity. Your hand moved away from his face to gently encircle both of his wrists, caressing the inside with the utmost care and gentleness. Both of you bathed quietly into each other’s love and drowned into it. The feeling of being with him and the feeling of being with you was ineffable to you both. No words, poems, movie references, or songs can describe this feeling. You both just know that you love being together and love each other wholeheartedly and that’s all that matters. 

“Never stop being an idiot, Steve harrington,” you whisper.

His lips tug into a warm, gooey smile. He leans closer, pressing a tender kiss to the tip of your nose. 

“Wasn’t planning to, baby.”

[azsazz]

In Storm

Rancher!Cassian x Reader

Summary: You want a baby and Cassian looks all too good in his flannel.

Warnings: Conversation about having a baby.

Word Count: 1,098

Notes: The Cassian era is era-inggg

_________________________________________

Rainy mornings are your favorite.

The sky cracking open and letting her feelings loose means that you get to sleep in, that your husband’s warm body holds you tightly as rain patters the windows in pretty songs. It means gentle calloused hands roaming your curves, soft breaths as he mouths against your skin. It means a slow and sensual fucking with a steaming hot bath following, where you can lean back into the comfort of Cassian and rest the day away.

But rainy mornings are not his favorite.

You find your husband standing in front of the large windows of the living room, staring out into the expanse of land you get to call yours. Yesterday’s flannel hangs loose around his broad shoulders, unbuttoned from when he’d hastily thrown it on to examine the conditions of the farm under the onslaught of rain. His hair is tousled, not yet thrown up into a haphazard bun the way he does when he works up a sweat from milking the cows or fixing the fence. His feet are bare, just as yours are, the hardwood flooring holding a chilled bite to it as you near his side.

Stepping up next to Cassian, you gaze out the window as well. The weather hadn’t called for a storm but the springtime is unpredictable. The horses graze in the pasture, seemingly unaffected by the drizzling skies. Their coats are dark with water but they’re getting on with their days as if the sun is shining brightly. 

Lightning cracks the sky and Cassian grunts, displeased. You can see it in the downwards slope of his mouth that he’s unhappy with the fact that he hadn’t brought the animals in yesterday, when he knew he smelled the metallic tang of a storm creeping in.

“They’re animals,” you try to soothe, “They should be used to it.”

“I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about the stallions,” Cassian responds, not even sparing you a glance as he stares at the horses. “But my mares shouldn’t be out in this storm. Especially not Carrington. Ol’ girl can have that foal anytime now and she’s only out in the rain because you were adamant she needed ‘fresh air.’” His voice pitches at the end in a terrible impersonation of you and you scowl.

“So now it’s my fault?” you ask, incredulously. Cassian lets you sidle up to his side anyway, slipping between the opening of his flannel and his bare chest. You nearly growl with delight because he’s so warm. Turning your head, you press your lips to his pec. “You’re grumpy when it rains.”

“‘M grumpy because there’s chores that need to be done,” Cassian sighs, wrapping an arm around your waist. “I should go out there.” 

Out there looks miserable. The trail leading up to the barn is muddy, puddles of rain scattering the path. The rain has kept its steady pour since you’d come down here to find your husband, and if you think he’s grumpy now, you know he’d be absolutely miserable after working out in the rain all day.

“Or, you can stay in here and we can spend a little time together,” you drawl, trailing your fingers along his chest. His muscles clench the closer to his waistline that you get. 

His hazel gaze cuts down to yours, “Last night wasn’t enough for you?” Cassian muses, eyes sparkling in the way that you know you have him. 

“Won’t be enough for me until I look like your best girl Carrington out there, nice and full with child.” 

Cassian’s fingers still from where they’re tracing patterns on your hip. “You really want one, don’t you?” He asks softly.

You shrug. It hasn’t been something you’ve talked about much, a child. Cassian is busy running the ranch and ever since Rhysand and Feyre moved closer to the hustle and bustle of the city to raise Nyx, you haven’t had anyone to really talk to besides the mares. And they just whinny and snort at everything you say. 

“It would mean extra hands around the farm,” you try to play off, cheeks heating. You slide from his side, eager to dispel the conversation your husband surely doesn’t want to have at this very moment. Not while Carrington is getting rained on, Gods forbid. “What do you want for breakfast? Pancakes? An omelet? I just gathered the eggs yesterday morning so they’ll be nice and fresh.”

“Hey,” Cassian calls gently, snagging your hand as you try to dip away. He tugs you back to his chest, bushing some of your sleep mussed hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear so he can caress your cheek. His hazel eyes search yours, and the frown tugging his lips downward makes your heart ache. “Don’t walk away from me, sweetheart. You want a baby?”

Your eyes well with tears the longer he stares at you. His brows are pulled tight as he waits patiently for your response. The emotion in your throat is thick, but you nod, voice coming out raspy with it when you answer. “More than anything.” 

Cassian nods a little, taking in your answer. His throat bobs but he’s agreeing, nodding firmer. “Then let’s have one.” 

Your entire body locks up at his words. You didn’t think it would be so easy to convince him. All you had to do all of this time was ask? Surely, that is not the case.

But Cassian would be so wonderful with a child in his arms. He’d love them just as perfectly as he loves you, as he cares for the animals of his ranch. You’ve seen him with the foals and chicks and lambs. How he holds each one with care and parades them around the ranch, kissing their little heads and talking to them in soft voices. He’s made to be a father, even if he doesn’t know it himself.

“We’re trying to have a baby,” you breathe, clutching onto him. An all-consuming feeling rushes through your body, nerves perhaps, because holy shit, you and Cassian are going to try for a baby. “We’re trying for a baby!”

Cassian grins, mirroring your excitement. He pulls you into his arms and you lock your legs around his waist immediately, diving down to capture his mouth against yours. The kiss is exhilarating, hot and sensual as they both of you settle into the feeling that maybe this time next year, it could be you giving birth instead of Carrington.

You could not be more excited for the adventure you and your husband are about to embark on.

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Pairing : Dad!Bangchan x F!Reader TW : children ; all fluffy though ; Word Count : 0.5k Request : nope A/N : getting back into the mindset of writing, I've been through a month long journey of bullshit and I'm craving some tooth rotting fluff right now, and here's some Channie!

“Ella…” Chan sighed, seeing the reflection of his daughter toddling through the door of his studio, her blanket dragging along behind her as she wobbled across the floor. “What are you doing up?” He questioned, his voice just above a whisper as he removed the headphones from his ears and placed them to the side of the desk, swiveling his chair around and extending his arms to pull his daughter onto his lap. 

“Storming outside… woke me up…” She mumbled, her soft voice still laced with the sleep that she had yet to fully awaken from. Chan hummed, finally noticing the sound of rain pattering against the window and the low rumble of thunder that he could feel shaking the floorboards if he paid enough attention to it. “Why you up?” She asked after a moment of silence, and he could only chuckle, glancing back at his screen to see that it was already 3 in the morning. 

“I guess I just lost track of time…” He mused, turning his hair back towards his screen to save the files he had been working on before turning off the laptop. “Whaddya think of a little snack and one episode of Bluey… And then we go back to bed? Huh?” He proposed the plan knowing well that his daughter would agree, and the swift nod of her head and bright smile that pushed up her puffy cheeks, although expected, still melted his heart. “No telling momma though, okay?” 

You woke up the next morning, your husband's side of the bed empty, just as it had been when you had gone to bed. He never failed to worry you with his lack of sleep, and you could already envision the sight of him snoring in his studio chair, his head hanging uncomfortably over the back of it which would undoubtedly cause him to complain of a neck ache the rest of the day. 

Trudging down the hallway, your eyes barely even open, you were greeted with the familiar tune of one of the intros to a show that your daughter would watch in the morning while you prepared breakfast. Upon further inspection, walking closer to the couch, you could see two bowls of melted ice cream set upon the coffee table, the rainbow sprinkles still clinging to the edge of the bowl. “Christopher…” You whispered, glancing down at your sleeping husband who was practically hanging off the edge of the couch while your daughter starfished across the cushions to take up most of the room. 

You couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of it, but it warmed your heart as well. It was moments like this that you’d snap a photo of in your mind and hold onto the memory of it forever. You cherished these moments, because although they weren’t fully your own, little things like this were a constant reminder to you of how lucky you were to not only have the little family that you did… But to have been able to have this family with Chan. 

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